


A Different Kind

by orphan_account



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Boot Worship, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Light Bondage, Office Sex, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ... a figure steps out of John's romantic past; heat ensues ...





	1. A New Obergruppenführerin

Obergruppenführer Smith was in a bad mood. His job as Obergruppenführer had always been stressful, but at least it had always been exciting. But recently Hitler had added ceremonial duties to the post, which Smith hated, and which took away from the real work of intelligence-gathering and quelling rebellious actions.

This morning was a case in point. He wanted to meet with Erich about the Lebensborn who would soon be coming over from Berlin; they were supposed to be assigning them posts in the GNR and in the JPS Nazi Embassy. Instead, he had to do a meet-and-greet with the various Ladies Auxiliaries who were in town for a “Women of the Reich” Convention.

The heads of the various auxiliaries - Cleveland, Lexington, Peoria - came into the room. They were clad in standard brown-shirt uniforms, but with skirts, which showed their piano legs. Some lesser women from smaller towns followed, in their best street suits. Quite an assembly from the hinterlands.

He met with them, told them what a great resource women were to the Reich, and generally charmed them. They tittered and tee-hee’d and ostentatiously ogled him. Inwardly he groaned. He was to introduce his wife at the convention tonight, where she was to give the keynote speech. As proud as he was of Helen, he dreaded to be amongst these hens again. It was as much fun as walking into her “Garden Club.”

Erich came in. “Obergruppenführer, there is a lady coming to see you. She’ll be here in 15 minutes.”

Smith blew out cigarette smoke. “Another of those Auxiliary ladies? Why wasn’t she with the rest this morning? Can’t you put her off? – I’m busy.”

“This one seems a lot more important, sir.” Raeder laid a file on Smith’s desk.

Smith picked it up, crabbily. But on opening it, his interest was piqued. In the front of the file was a face he recognized well, and flipping quickly to the bio, he saw the name – Paula Lund.

He knew her name. He knew _her_. They’d known each other before the war; she had been on staff in the Mayor’s office, where they both worked. They started to see each other, then fallen in love. It was a passionate, unusual attachment; he was a quiet, somewhat conservative young man; she was spirited, free - almost bohemian when not on the job. He introduced her to classical music and sailing; she introduced him to jazz, modern literature - and other things.

Looking through the dossier, he saw a gap from the time she left the Mayor’s office in the late ‘30’s and through the War. He sighed; the War was when they lost track of each other. Why hadn’t they kept in touch? How could two people who were once so close disappear from each other’s lives that way?

John considered. It had been a rather intense affair at times; perhaps such love was just a blaze for the young. After all, with Helen he had sweet and devoted love, his beloved children, and the haven that was home.

The dossier picked up at the end of ’47. She joined the Reich, just as he had. And she had worked her way up, as had he. His motives for doing so were clear in his mind – he had a family to protect. What had been hers, he wondered?

At any rate, he was to meet with her as the Reich’s newest – and first female – SS commander. She had been promoted to Obergruppenführerin of the Midwest Region. His curiosity would be satisfied soon.


	2. Enter Paula Lund

Raeder knocked on the door, and Smith ordered them to come in. The door opened and he heard the click of heels on the hard floor.

As he watched her enter he told Erich, “Sturmbannführer, clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. I’m occupied.”

“Understood, sir.” Raeder left and closed the door. Smith felt that another door had opened.

Standing before him was a woman, not in an ordinary army-type uniform, but clad in a SS black one, same as his. Though of course, her uniform was skirted. He was surprised to see she also wore boots; with a higher heel, but still form-fitting. No piano legs on this one. Not at all.

“Well! This is a surprise!” He tried to stay businesslike. “I have not had the pleasure to meet a female ‘gruppenführer. Pardon me, _-führerin_…”

“Are you surprised, Obergruppenführer, to see what a woman like me is capable of?” She cocked her head with a wry little smile; a gesture he remembered well.

“No,” he said, “Not at all.”

He found that his breath was catching. The sight of her in that uniform produced… conflicts. He was so used to seeing it on himself that he forgot the genius of the Hugo Boss design. So powerful. So compelling. So… _verboten_.


	3. About Obedience

“You shouldn’t be surprised, John. I’m not surprised at _you_, nor how far you’ve come. You see, I’ve been watching you from afar, all this time…” She turned her head away, quickly, afraid he would catch an expression on her face.

He walked up to her, forcing her to look out of politeness. He was taken aback. She looked intently at him. The gaze was a curious mixture of assessing him and adoring him.

“Please, sit down,” he said, trying to act normal, but feeling awkward.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed, sounding equally awkward. She smoothed her hands over the back of her skirt and sat down… in the leather chair he was accustomed to sit in.

She perched tentatively – the chair was quite deep – then slowly slid back and leaned comfortably, crossing her ankles in a move both dainty and seductive. She fixed him with eyes of grey-green crystal, an inscrutable expression on her face.

Smith figured his own expression must’ve been fairly strange, because she started up. “Oh, is this?… am I sitting in your?…”

“No, Paula, that’s all right. I told you to sit, didn’t I?”

He placed a hand on her knee and went to sit on the sofa. He hadn’t meant to touch her knee directly, but he had, and a pleasant shiver went through him. He leaned toward her as she twisted in the chair.

He tried to sound casual, but his voice dropped down. “I’m amused to find you so… willing to obey. Are you always so _obedient_ nowadays?”

He hadn’t moved his hand, and he noticed how she placed her hand on top of his.

“Oh, you know my dossier, John. I expect you know that I know when to command, and when to obey.” Gently, she smoothed the back of his hand.

“Indeed. It’s earned you that uniform.”

She looked him over, thoroughly weighing every detail about him. He was doing the same with her.

John reached out his other hand and touched her cheek. “It’s been a long time, Paula.”


	4. Obedience

There was an awkward pause, and he rubbed her knee, almost mindlessly. “I never forgot you, you know. I… I should have done some investigation, but … the duties of War…”

She leaned forward and put a finger on his lips. “Let’s not speak of that. We found each other. Or maybe, we were found for each other.”

John held her hand to his mouth, kissed the finger she laid against his lips, then kissed her hand. Gently at first. But as his breathing started to go faster, he kissed her feverishly: her hands; his lips brushing over the sleeves.

He paused; feelings surged in him. This was inappropriate – wrong - but undeniable. He looked up, and saw that she, too was flushed, panting. Confusion fought for a moment in her face, but he caught her eyes, using them to ask the old, old question. She met his eyes full, and nodded hastily. A soft moan escaped from her – she had always been his…

He kissed both hands again, almost courtly in manner. He continued to caress and kiss; when his fingers came to her armband he snatched it off, tossing it in a corner. He loosened her shirt collar, removing the silly red snap-tie that served as a sort of decoration, and buried his lips in her neck. Her skin was so soft there, so warm, her pulse jumping like a rabbit. He trailed his lips on her collarbone…

She reached for him, caressing his back and pulling him closer. He had left the sofa and was in the chair now, his knees on either side of her, thankful that the chair was deep and wide. But though he appeared to kneel, he was no supplicant… no, not now.

“I said before that your obedience earned you that uniform.” He leaned over her, forcing her to lean back. “Now you’ll find out that you must continue to obey...”

Ahh, he had her head at last, clamping it between his hands. He kissed her roughly, and she gave back in kind. She thrust her tongue up into his mouth, and he was rising, in cadence with the motions of her mouth.

“Wanton…” he said. “You’re so proud of what you can do with your mouth, your tongue.” He raised his thighs so that his body was straight and his crotch was level with her face. His cock was tenting the crisp black cloth, and he held her face near his crotch. “Show me. _Serve_ me…”

She quickly glanced up at him, the look in her eyes betraying her hunger. But she attempted to pull away…

“Obey!” he commanded. At his word, she buried her head in him, arms wrapping around his waist, kissing him through the cloth, fingers working the fly. Her hair had come undone, and it spilled over him, a burst of bright auburn against the somber black.

“Loosen the belt,” he hissed. She ran her fingers up the edge of the jacket, finding the shiny buckle and unfastening it. She loosened the belt and started to pull it but he moved her hands away, holding them together at the wrist. “No…” His whisper had a stern rasp. “Did I say to remove it?”

“No,” she said, saucily. “I just thought… you might want to use it. Your hands might get tired, trying to keep my wrists together like that.” She looked at him through her hair, and was excited to see him breathing heavily.

He had to admire her ingenuity. John shifted his weight onto one leg, holding her wrists with one hand, and pulling the belt out of its loops with the other.

He pulled them both out of the chair and moved her in front of him, dropping her quickly on her knees. She cried out and he enjoyed seeing her buttocks bounce precariously on the heels of her boots. He wound the leather around her wrists, giving a gentle tug with each wrap. She writhed helplessly, and he fantasized about the heat spreading between her legs…

But he would not indulge that, not yet. She was well-tied, and he sat back, spreading widely. He unbuttoned the buttons of the tunic, watching her mouth open hungrily, as if she would eat the buttons like candy.

He pulled her starving mouth toward his cock. He unzipped, and already it was jutting out of his fly, hardening quickly. She showered grateful kisses along the tip; her tongue probing along what of the shaft was exposed. He undid the waistband and spread the fly open, lifting his cock and balls free. He leaned back with a groan, pulling her face toward him.

She took her time, slowly giving his shaft her tongue-strokes, first some light half-strokes, then full-length. She was leisurely, as if drugged. Then she pressed the tip of her tongue against his veins, and he could feel the throbbing; _Gott in Himmel,_ she drove him crazy.

Her skirt had hitched up when he had pulled her onto him, and with her bound hands she was hising it up further…

He yanked the belt hard, dragging her hands onto his lap. He delighted in the her little moan. “I really think you need to give me all of your attention,” he ordered.

He swallowed hard; when he pulled her hands up, he had accidentally moved her so that she was straddling his calf. She looked up at him, half-smirking, and pressed. The front of her skirt was up, and he saw that she wore no underpants. He couldn’t help a little intake of breath… oh, she was a rare one. The mound of Venus was exposed, hitting an area near the top of his well-polished boot.

Paula compliantly returned to her task. “You’re the boss; whatever you say.” She compliantly put one hand on either side of his penis, cupping his balls in each hand. The blood rushed to his head.

“That’s better,” he managed to breathe. She had taken his head in her mouth now, running her tongue and lips over the ridges where his foreskin had retracted. She pushed forward, slowly, slowly, engulfing all of him. He was swooning, dying; she was absorbing him.

Then - she backed down, leaving his exposed shaft cooling, while she maddeningly held just the head in her mouth.

John loosened his grip on the belt, giving her hands more play. She explored his thighs, played with her fingers down his treasure trail and in his pubic hair, moaning with him still in her mouth. Her pube was still pressing against his shin, lightly working up and down the leather.

He tightened the belt again with a sharp pull, enjoying her lurch toward him, her mouth opening as her cunt surged against the boottop. “Oh, I want it, oh, please, I want it,” she begged.

“Not yet,” he teased, nudging his cock into her willing mouth, “Not until you have served me well.” He leaned forward, burying his other hand in her auburn hair.

Again, that slow absorbing, the tongue tickling his veins, driving him wild; then the sudden pullback; this wild fucking of him with her mouth. He moved his hand to the back of her head, fearful if she would pull off altogether. “Don’t… leave me,” John cried, “I want you to accept it… all of it.”

A glance from her eyes gave him her “Yes.” She adored him, and her look told her she desired this as badly as he did.

He loosened and unwound the belt altogether, tossing it somewhere, he didn’t know where. He leaned back again, almost throwing himself against the chair, and she wrapped his arms around him. He was coming rapidly, loving how she sucked him.

Dimly, he was aware that with her new freedom she had control and was straddling his leg again, her crotch sliding up and down the shin of his boot as her mouth moved up and down the shaft of his penis. John didn’t care; he wanted her enjoyment, and the synchronized motion of her in both places was dizzying.

The sensation was too much; he was moaning, crying her name; she sucked and pulled everything out of him. For a brief moment spots danced before his eyes as he came gratefully in her mouth, so lovingly had he been accepted. His eyes fluttered and he slumped in the chair. He opened his eyes again, and delighting in the sight of her. For she was rubbing her cunt hard against the instep, gasping with her mouth an _O_, until finally she came, too. Spent, she fell into him, panting on his lap.


	5. An Edge Of Rebellion

“Come,” he said, when he could finally speak. He held out his arms to lift her onto his lap. “Let me hold you.” They cuddled.

It was so pleasant, their faces nuzzling. She stroked his hair and kissed him leisurely. Their mouths were open, tongues occasionally probing, but not strenuously. He wondered idly if there was any residual come in her mouth.

“What are you thinking of?” Paula asked.

“Just about what we were doing.” He started to unbutton her tunic.

She unbuttoned his as well, and gave a little laugh. “Hardly to Reich standards of morality…”

Her tunic was unbuttoned now and he used the plackets to put her closer. “No. Hardly something to bring about children. It’s been a while…” he said, pulling her shirt loose. Paula wondered whether his wife had ever given him fellatio, or whether the Smiths made love in missionary position with all the lights off. “It’s been a long while since I’ve broken the rules. I miss the _Bohemian_ in my life…”

“Yes, I always was that… before getting on the Autobahn of the Straight and Narrow…”

John gave her a look as if to say, “Fuck the Straight and Narrow.” She felt it so clearly, that edge of rebellion that she always was able to raise in him, that she gasped a little.

She played with his jacket and ran his hand over it, touched the medals lightly. “My, my, what a good, brave man you’ve been ever since…” She reached over to the armband and snatched it off. He watched eagle-eyed. “And this…” her fingertip trailed up his chest to touch the medal around his neck

He nodded, and she reached behind him to unfasten the medal. John sighed as she pulled it off, almost a sigh of relief. She put the medal and armband on the flat palm of her hand, as if making a confused offering.

John took them and tossed them viciously into a corner; she heard the metallic clank as it hit.

He got up from the chair, lifting her with him, and carried her over to the couch. “I feel like I’ve been waiting ages for this moment, Paula …”


	6. Paraphernalia

They kissed so hard he was dizzy and they practically fell to the couch. Somehow he had undone her jacket, and was opening it while she worked on his, pulling it off. He noted that his tunic came off – he had no idea where it went; he was concentrating on other things… 

It was strange that such a stern woman would wear anything but regulation underwear, but it was true. John had been driven wild by the realization that she was bare on the bottom, and now her brassiere was a positively impure confection of peachy lace. Clever of her to use a front opening, too… 

Oh, her nipples; so rosy, so easily erect. Never having had children, her breasts were firm and still quite high, and he buried himself in them…

The fly to his pants was still open and he could feel her hands groping, clearly enjoying stroking his buttocks - but the suspenders kept her from accessing him as she wanted. She pushed him up somewhat, pulling his shirt free from the pants. But he wanted her, wanted to return to her rounded flesh…

“You want this…” she grabbed his suspenders and pulled her toward him, letting his hands and mouth go where they wanted. 

In a while, he felt a tugging. Paula had put her hand in the center of his bare chest, and pushed up, while simultaneously pulling him up by the junction of his suspenders. She shifted their position and now she was hovering over him. He watched, fascinated, as she pulled his shirt free. It hung limply down, only caught loosely on his body by the suspenders. 

He had sucked her nipples; it only seemed fair for her to suck his. He was almost swooning from the touch of her lips. Her front was completely open and he pulled all her tops back – jacket, blouse, and bra in one sweep. He unbuttoned the cuffs of her shirt so he could pull them off altogether while she was occupied. He pulled off the tunic belt, and set to work undoing her waistband…

Still leaning over him, she grabbed the suspenders, guiding him to half-sit up while pulling at her skirt. She reached down, undoing the buttons of the suspenders, pulling them and the shirt off his torso. She massaged his chest, and he pulled her tight. Suddenly she uttered a sharp cry.

Unwittingly, he had still had the belt in his hand, and as he had pulled her skirt, the hard metal buckle dragged across her exposed pussy. She was trembling a little, somewhat in shock and somewhat in… anticipation.

John fixed her with a stern look; now he would be in charge. He made her lie prone on the sofa and he removed the skirt altogether. She smiled up at him, almost demurely. 

He sat at the end of the sofa a while, taking in the sight. She was completely naked save for a black garter belt, black stockings, and the boots, which he held on his lap. Her pubic hair was a slightly darker auburn than her head, and he dove down, still sitting, but kissing and licking her legs where her thighs met.

She squirmed with pleasure, starting to open her legs. John sat upright. She continued to squirm, and he found that she unknowingly put pressure on his cock with her bootsoles. 

He pulled off his boots and socks, and for a moment, Paula started to raise up, as if to follow suit. But with a strong hand on her shoulder he pushed her flat against the sofa. Briefly he grabbed his waistband and got up, standing over her, and released the waistband, getting rid of the pants altogether. Then he sat back down, replacing her boots on his lap.

She was panting a little; she’d seen his erection, and was dying for it. He wanted to come into her too… but first he wanted her to writhe under his touch. The belt had gotten tucked in a corner of the sofa and he pulled it out, showing her the buckle.

He half-turned toward her; the display of her in those sluttish garter-and-stockings drove him wild. Then her boots bit into this lap; he sucked in breath sharply. He knew that she’d noticed.

He leant over again, kissing her thighs and barely brushing her mound. Slowly he slid a warm hand from knee to the top of her thigh, and she opened; at least as much as he would allow her after trapping her feet. She fought the restraint and pressed her soles harder against him. He thought he would faint from the pressure his blood pounding.

But somehow he remembered to remind her of the buckle, and dragged the cold metal slowly over the same stripe that he had just warmed with his hand. She couldn’t help licking her lips, and he was excited to think of the wetness of her labia, as well. When the buckle was almost to the mound, he put his hand between her thighs and coaxed her open – not that she needed much coaxing.

Oh, but she feared to lose herself just yet; Paula fixed him with a lustful stare, delighted to see how he took her in: her firm breasts, her auburn triangle, the fantastic kink of her stockinged self. Then he placed the cold metal on the hood, and the cold and the pressure drew her cries. 

It had been a long time, almost decades, but they had learned each other well in youth, and nothing could erase that intimate knowledge. His free hand knew exactly where to seek, where to probe, where to soothe. The other hand… John hesitated. 

“Yes, yes,” she begged, “use it. You know where to touch me… press the signet into me. It would be the only time that evil thing was ever used for joy.”

His hesitation melted. Their love could not be sullied by the Reich; because their love predated, and far surpassed, the false demands of the Reich. Fuck them... he would mock them with their own paraphernalia…

But even this philosophizing was lost in the love and beauty before him. He teased her with that metal buckle, smoothing and gliding it, now hard, now slowly, now with a mere brush. Her clit responded in the way he knew it would, and Paula was coming now. Still, she cunningly pressed and eased her feet against him, playing and pedaling him to her own rhythm. 

Her boots were harsh against his crotch, but his cock found that gap where her feet met and was poking through. He was absorbed in this pleasure. But then he saw her back arch, heard his lover’s cries of pleasure, and found them matched by his own animalistic grunting before collapsing. They had come together in that strange, rebellious act.


	7. Paula's Story

They both leaned back, recovering. John found he had orgasmed all over her boots, and was delighted to see that one of her heels had left a red welt on his thigh. His hands were wet with her cum, and her breathing was shallow in the afterglow.

He wriggled slightly to the side, and unfastened the garters and garter belt. He pulled the freed stockings down to the top of her boots, kissing her thighs as he went. Then slowly he removed each boot, then each stocking, fondling and embracing her legs. At long last, they were completely nude, completely unencumbered from the uniform. They lay fully frontal, holding each other for a long time…

The nakedness and freedom from the party paraphernalia brought to the front of his mind the burning question he’d had earlier, the question he had longed and feared to ask. He plunged forward.

“What brought you to the Nazi party, Paula? I had a family to protect. Why are you with us? Someone as free and spirited as you always were?”

The question was clearly unexpected. Paula turned bright red and moved as if she wanted to escape. She sat up “I… I was brainwashed. I think I thought I was in love.”

Jealousy took him. It was unfair of him, but he couldn’t help it, especially after seeing and enjoying her body again. A body that he needed to claim as his, all his, his alone.

“Paula…” he said warningly, “…I can’t bear it…” He gripped her legs savagely and placed kisses on her inner thighs, her torso.

“I was… captured. I was captured as a POW, and got shipped to Europe,.“ John stopped, and looked at her trembling mouth. He took his face in her hands and kissed her.

“Darling… I had no idea.” He took her back into his arms as they sat side by side.

Paula continued. “Because of my security clearance in the OSS, I was sent to a castle, deep in the Austrian Alps. Oh, there were never chains or cells – it was like how royalty was imprisoned in olden days.

“And there was a young Nazi – oh, he looked the perfect Aryan – who came to see me every day, talked to me to relieve my loneliness. He was very handsome, very smart, and very kind.”

John’s jealousy was rising again, but he knew he must control it. He massaged her back, gently, letting her speak at her own pace.

“Gradually, this young Nazi influenced me to see myself as a model partner… the clever wife, the good manager, the loyal woman who supported her man and the Reich by being an endless cheerleader. Then, too, with the War over, he promised we would now make the world a better place…”

“Oh, I signed up for it, all right. The Führer himself read the ceremony - with the new rites written by Bormann, even. I was quite the coup... the American female from US Intelligence turned perfect Nazi. Then, too, I and my bridegroom were to correct and perfect the Lebensborn program…”

“It was a short-lived marriage. The new bridegroom died under mysterious circumstances… at another prison, much more infamous than mine. The Reich didn’t know what to do with me, and to be honest, they didn’t want to give a non-German a pension. So, they sent me to the American Reich. You know the rest. And you know I can’t leave, any more than you can.”

“But I did swear to myself that I would make it my way, and that I would regain and keep my free spirit. Even if I had to hide it underground.”

John cradled her against his chest. “I have always loved your spirit. Keep yourself safe, but… keep your spirit. And, when you can, share with me.”

“Always, John.” She stroked his chest, his face, tenderly. Then, warming to his embrace, she moved her face down, leaning against his chest. The heat between them was rising again, and she pulled him to her own breasts. “Always,” she breathed.


	8. Consummation

They embraced again, in an easy way. They cuddled, tickling and exploring. But for all the easiness, there was a victory, too. Their love had not died, despite space and time, nor had the death of the old world killed it. And they would re-consummate that love, pleasurably, in many times in many ways, as much as they could.

But John had not entirely let go of his jealousy of Paula’s husband. He kissed her firmly, as if to let her know he would have no competition. She responded, and they went at each other’s mouths roughly, biting and sucking each other’s lips until they were swollen.

He had hardened easily, but remembering her earlier worship of him, he bent down, kissing and laving her with his tongue. She spread widely, letting him enjoy it, her taste of salty seas and buckwheat honey. She wriggled a bit, wondering where he wanted to take her…

He rubbed his face against her lower belly, speaking in almost a purr. “Come, my darling. I know you. I _know_ you. You’re greedy enough to not spend it all in one place…”

He went down on her again, licking and kissing, varying his strokes. Oh, his mouth was so warm. He had found that place; massaging it with his tongue ‘til he touched it with a hardened tongue-tip, hitting her _exactly_ where she needed it. Pleasure rippled through her and she gave herself over, crying out…

He was lying fully on top of her now, and she enjoyed the pressure of him, especially the pressure gnawing between her legs. He kissed her, and she tasted… herself. An electric shock passed through them, and he drew back a bit. She laughed shyly. It had been so long since she had enjoyed that bit of wanton sharing, and she realized it had been a long time for him too.

But his cock was insistent now. He came into her in one long rush. He pushed into her, not plowing recklessly, but with one firm impulse… to be in her as deeply and as long as he could. She pulled on him, wanting to draw him further in.

A flush suffused his face as he came inside her, and she was coming too. For a moment everything was hard and hectic, and then… they orgasmed; it was hard to know who’d succumbed first. Everything happened in a comfortable, swaying lurch.

John’s face was peaceful now, laying against her chest. She felt her own soft panting, and placed her lips in his hair, before falling, floating, in a dream-like state…


	9. A Different Kind

They drowsed for some while, lying naked together on the leather couch – skin upon skin upon skin. Fingertips brushed lightly, slowly over each other, gentle as new leaves.

Her hair looked like fire in the late-afternoon sun, yet it felt soft and cool as he kissed it. She laughed softly, “Ohhh, if you keep doing that…”

John raised himself on one elbow, reluctantly. “…we may never get up,” he finished. “And we have to, get up,” he admitted. That didn’t prevent him from burying kisses on her neck.

She pushed him away, playfully but firmly. “Yes, we do! We both have that Convention to go to.” She wrinkled her nose, and he knew that he hated the state-duties of the job as much as he did.

He sat up, gathering his clothes while she did the same. There was a bathroom off to the side of his office (executive perks), and he went to grab some towels, rinsing some of them with warm water, so they could wash and be presentable. As he came back, he realized she’d been watching him, enjoying the sheer power of his male stride. 

They tugged their clothes on. They kept finding collars to straighten, bits of clothing to tuck in. They did so, slowly, embellishing the process with kisses, delighting to find that dressing had pleasure as much as undressing, though of a more piquant sort. 

“You are a credit to the Reich, and a beacon of what women really can do,” he said gallantly, when he was finally dressed. “I wish you were giving the keynote.”

“Are you forgetting about your wife?” said Paula, irritated. She turned bright red. She could have kicked herself.

John blushed sheepishly himself. “It seems I… that is, temporarily… “

They both laughed nervously. The spell of the encounter was still upon them. It seemed to John perverted to spend part of his evening introducing his wife to his new-old lover. Yet delicious… to see his two loves side by side.

“Well, I would never want to hurt her… but this is…” 

Paula looked at him, reading his thoughts. “Different. I understand. John… she gives you something I can’t.”

He considered for a moment. “Hmmm. Yes. It’s more than wifely duty, though, and of course, the kids. There’s a bond from these seventeen years, of weathering through.”

She took his face in her hands. “And I was absent. I never searched for you, never came for you, and when I found out about you… you were hers.”

He stroked her hair. “We have our history, though. And a new Now.”

“Yes. Our Now. A bit of a future, I hope…” 

“But,” she continued, “Helen is a much better person to speak to the Women’s Convention. I act boldly, and speak forwardly, like a man. I’d be off-putting. Your Helen can speak their language, inspire them to make the most of their little lives.”

Paula put her lips to his cheek, lingering. “Most of them are just sparrows, puddling about in their domestic birdbath. I can’t relate to that.”

“No. Neither can I. We’re not like them. We share different thoughts and passions.” John took her in his arms, feeling her melt into him. “You and I… we’re a different kind.”


End file.
